A Ghost
by Antosha
Summary: Harry is on a mission back in time. While he's waiting for his mates to meet up with him, he runs into the one woman he would most love to talk to. But how can he ask anything or say anything without jeopardizing his own past, and the wizarding world's fu


Harry had completed his mission with almost forty-five minutes to spare. The clump of Tom Riddle, Sr.'s hair lay folded in a silk handkerchief in his pocket, and a sickly feeling of relief spread through him. He'd gotten in and out of the Riddle house with absolutely no incident.

Striding nonchalantly down the streets of Little Hangleton, he spotted the rendezvous spot: the village's lone teashop. He ducked inside and seated himself to wait for Ron and Hermione, Ginny and Luna to come back from their missions in other parts of the country.

A cup of tepid, tasteless tea and a bright pink cake did nothing to dampen his exultant, relaxed mood. He took in the other patrons of the shop, amused by the hair and the fashions of this provincial village, three years before his own birth.

Time travel was very disconcerting, but it certainly had entertainment value. A song was on the radio, an eerie voice singing about floating high above the world, in outer space. It pulled at some random string in Harry's memory.

Behind him, the door chimes rang as someone entered the shop. Harry heard a high-pitched squeal. Suddenly his vision was obscured by a flash of copper, a liquid weight poured itself onto his lap and chest, and Harry found himself at the receiving end of a passionate, wet, toe-curling, soul-satisfying kiss.

When the kiss was broken, Harry was stunned, but that was nothing to the astonishment that slammed into him when he was actually able to see the face of his attacker: pale, befreckled, with a mane of dark red hair and almond-shaped green eyes.

He had just been treated to one of the most erotic moments of his seventeen years by Lily Evans, the woman who would one day be his mother. This was a Freudian nightmare.

When Lily saw Harry's face, her own expression plummeted. She blushed and began to stammer. "I'm so sorry! I thought... I thought..." She stood and backed away from him.

"You thought I was... James," said Harry, realization sinking in.

She nodded and sat in the chair opposite him, but then her face closed off, turning white with fear. The other customers, who had all turned to look, slowly began to return to their weak tea and gossip. "Who are you?" she asked.

Harry's breath caught. He wanted desperately to tell her the truth, to tell her who he was and who she was, and what was going to happen. But the lecture that Professors Snape, Flitwick and McGonagall had given them before their departure was still only an hour old in his head: under no circumstance could he reveal the future to anyone. Even the smallest change could destroy everything. Even something insignificant could change the future that was Harry's present until it was totally unrecognizable and--in all likelihood--worse. All he could manage to say was, "It's complicated."

Lily's face seemed to be warring between shock and distrust. "Try me," she said.

Harry sighed in frustration. How often had he dreamed of having the opportunity actually to talk to his parents? And here was his mother, yet the only answers he could give her were guaranteed to incite her disbelief. "I... I really can't tell you. Not because I don't want to, but because it would be really dangerous to us both if I did." He leaned forward. "But I'm from the... _community_, and my name is Harry."

"It's about You-Know-Who, isn't it?" Lily asked, her eyes boring into Harry's.

It was not too much, Harry decided, simply to nod.

Apparently satisfied, she pursed her lips and sighed. "Well, Harry," she said, "it's a, um, pleasure meeting you." Then, remembering how she had introduced herself, she began to turn a dark shade of crimson. "I'm sorry," she said, stifling a nervous laugh, "but you..."

"Look like James. I've been told." Silently, Harry kicked himself for giving her that information.

She looked at him, clearly trying to weigh which questions were in-bounds. Instead she held out her hand. "My name is..."

"Lily Evans. Pleased to meet you," muttered Harry, shaking her hand, and they settled into a silence that was neither unpleasant nor entirely comfortable.

"You can let go of my hand now," Lily said, and now it was Harry's turn to blush, and she smiled.

"So," he said, trying to think of a neutral topic when he was boiling with things he wanted to ask and say, "what brings you to Little Hangleton?"

"Oh," she replied, "we're up for the summer. My mother's family are from around here."

"Really?" Harry blurted, "I didn't know that!"

Lily gave a mischievous grin, "Well, that's a relief. I was beginning to feel like you knew everything about me. Yeah, my great-grandparents lived in a big old house up the road--been abandoned for years, everyone says its haunted. But my Nana Riddle still lives in a cottage at the other end of town."

The teacup hadn't reached Harry's mouth, or he would certainly have spit a mouthful across the table. "Riddle?"

"Yeah, she actually married my Granda, Bill Hornley, but we always call her by her maiden name... Are you all right, Harry?"

"Have you ever heard of Tom Riddle?" Harry asked, trying not to shout.

She shrugged, eying him warily. "That was her brother's name. He was a stage magician. But he died, along with my great-grandparents, back during the war. They're the ones that're supposed to be haunting the place," she said with a smile. Then she looked at him thoughtfully. "At the school, you know, in one of the trophy cases, there's a dusty old medal made out to a Tom Riddle. But that couldn't have been him. It's too young. And besides, Nana was just as shocked and pleased as my parents when I got my letter from... from the school, you know."

Harry nodded, and tried to still his breathing. Though he had never expected it, this was a connection that made perfect sense: Voldemort himself was Harry's last maternal relative, aside from his aunt. The implications were astonishing.

She gazed at him, still thoughtful. "This is so odd," she said, "and not just because you look like James. I feel as if I've known you forever."

Harry nodded. "I feel as if I've known you my whole life," he said, earnestly and truthfully. "I know so much about you, and James, and Sirius, and Moony..."

She laughed, caught off-guard again. "And don't forget little Peter!" she said.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep the anger and sadness from his voice, "little Peter." He could tell her everything. He could reveal Peter Pettigrew's betrayal. He could save her life and his father's and change his own history utterly. But if he did that... It was only through their death that Voldemort had been defeated, the first time--her death had put the protection on Harry that had caused Voldemort's near obliteration. And if that protection and the scar upon his forehead didn't exist, would he or anyone else stand any chance of defeating Lord Voldemort finally? Saving her life might doom tens of thousands. At long last, Harry had some inkling of the agony that Dumbledore had endured in keeping silent during his first five years at Hogwarts.

He looked at the beautiful, vital girl across the table from him and his stomach began to churn. She was dead. In four and a half years, she would sacrifice herself to save her son, to save him, Harry. And she sat there, vibrating with life, with no idea. But then, he thought, we're all condemned. We just none of us know what door the reaper is hiding behind.

For the second time, she looked across at him and asked, "Are you all right, Harry?"

He looked around, dabbing his eyes with a napkin. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"

She shook her head. "My sister and her fiancŽ are going to meet me here. He's taking us for a ride in his big, new American motor."

"You don't look terribly excited," Harry said, smiling.

"Well, in all honesty, there's almost nothing I'd less rather do. He's a bore, and he brings out the worst in my sister. I've been day-dreaming about James showing up and rescuing me," she grinned shyly, "which is why I tackled you when I saw the back of your head."

"Lucky me," he said, more emphatically than he had intended, and they both blushed. "Listen, Lily," he began, but at just that moment the chimes rang again, and two newcomers entered the shop: a beefy young man with long sideburns and a walrus mustache, and a horsy woman with an air of absolute disappointment.

"Oh, look!" Lily said. "It's my sister and her boyfriend." She stood, and Harry stood with her.

"Hello, Lily," said the young, self-satisfied Vernon Dursley. "Ready to see my new car?"

Petunia pierced Harry with a disapproving gaze--one that she had not yet perfected. "Who's this, Lily? A friend from your _school_?"

"Yes," said, Harry, almost unable to restrain himself. "If I'd known you were up here for the summer, Lily, I'd have flown up much sooner."

The two muggles went pale, giving Harry the satisfaction of knowing they had picked up on precisely what he had meant by _flown_. The Vernon's face flashed a florid pink Harry realized his uncle would no longer be able to manage when he was older.

"When you're ready," Petunia said to her sister, her voice trembling, "we'll be outside in the Cadillac." And they left as quickly as propriety allowed.

"Oh, you are wicked," Lily said, laughing. "I haven't seen Vernon get that red that quickly in ages."

I've had years of practice, Harry thought, but he simply smiled. "Lily," he said, "it would be best if you didn't tell anyone you ran in to me," he said. "Especially no one at school--not even the teachers."

She nodded, though it was unclear to Harry how deeply she understood--or, for that matter, trusted him. "It's been a very unique pleasure, Harry," she said, shaking his hand again.

"Likewise," he said, fighting down the flood of emotion one more time.

She leaned close to him, her eyes bright, and said, with quiet intensity, "Can I tell you what I think, Harry-of-the-black-hair-and-green-eyes?" When he didn't respond, she went on, "I think you're from the future. I think you can't tell me anything because if you do, it will change something really important. But if James... " She shivered slightly. "If James and _I_ ever have a son, I'm going to make sure we call him Harry."

Harry did not trust himself to move. Lily leaned forward and gave him a kiss--not fiery and melting this time, but shattering, a benediction of such sweetness that Harry knew he could not bear it.

She began to pull away, but he held her hand tight. "Listen," Harry said, in a hissing whisper, "there's going to be a time when you're in a very... _dangerous_ situation. James will run into the room and yell at you to get out. And you're going to try something really frightening and risky. I want you to know that what you're going to do _works_."

Her eyes went round. She nodded briefly and let go of his hand. She gave a small half-wave, which he returned, and then she left the shop.

Well, Harry thought, it was all I could do--to let her know in that moment of terror that she would succeed. I hope it gives her some relief.

Twenty minutes later, Harry's friends arrived for the rendezvous, right on time. Harry got up to meet them.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ginny--the same question that Lily had asked, posed with the same gentle intensity. Ron and Hermione's faces mirrored Ginny's concern.

"You look," said Luna, her eyes odd and knowing, "as if you've seen a ghost."

"I have," Harry said, and walked outside into the sunlight.


End file.
